


It Wasn't the Spell

by laurenas



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: All women and nothing else, Eventual Smut, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Lesbian Sex, Lust, Oral Sex, PWP, Slow Burn, Trust, When I say eventual I mean C3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 00:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenas/pseuds/laurenas
Summary: "If you want to see my collection of sex toys you only need to ask, but trust me when I say you do not want me to assert my dominance.”“Maybe that’s exactly what I want. I mean, it’s been a while for both of us...”Set long after S6-finale (my own little fix-it story); what begins as harmless yet curious over-sharing between friends awakens a possibility and desire Regina and Emma aren't quite sure how do deal with. 3-shot, only because it was too long to post all as one (and it's not quite finished yet). Explicit rating for C3 - is it possible to say slow-burn PWP? Because that's what this is.





	1. Past

**Author's Note:**

> I needed somewhere to vent my frustration that this is was the biggest missed opportunity in TV history. I was never supposed to post this but I've been enjoying so many stories on AO3 recently that I thought it only fair to give back (and I hoped posting would push me to actually finish it). Thank you x

Anyone may have thought that a quaint little town in Maine would be quite a come down for the Evil Queen. However, considering Storybrooke was entirely of her own design – right from the cosy, family-run diner down to the charming, well-stocked library – others might say it was obvious what Regina Mills really wanted all along. A community, a family. She just didn’t quite go the right way about getting it.

Yet, against all odds, that is exactly what she got. It seems that these things can be found in the most unlikely of places. Her old tale was rewritten – the villains became heroes and her legacy became one of respect instead of terror. She was the rightful Mayor of townspeople who had once feared to speak her name, the step-daughter she once vowed to kill was now one of her closest confidantes and the woman who tried to ‘steal’ her son showed her the true meaning of a best friend. She didn’t just get a second chance to start with a blank page; she got a brand new book.

However there was one chapter in her story that Regina was still missing – love. Her heart was fuller than she ever dared believe possible in her years as the Evil Queen – the hole that Daniel left was more of a gaping chasm that she never thought could be filled, and the forgiveness she had been proffered proved her wrong in the most poetic of ways. Yet the dust had settled and she was surrounded by kindness, affection and care but she was still alone. The Stable Boy was gone. The Man with the Lion Tattoo was gone. Both would still hold a piece of her heart for the rest of her life, and she held on to that now without the resentment and anger that they were taken from her too soon. But she was still alone.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to be alone. She’d been alone for the best part of her whole life, and fully relished in her freedom to do as she pleased. Sex had never been a problem either, she’d always found that in one way or the other (though now, thoughts of how made her feel extremely nauseous). It was more that she’d finally started to forgive herself for her past sins and believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d become a person deserved to be loved. With Henry off realm-hopping, pursuing his life’s purpose (which could only lead to a beautiful love story for a handsome boy like him, Regina was sure of it), the space in her life to accept someone new was ever present. The dozens of empty rooms in the mayoral mansion reminded her of that every day.

Storybrooke had barely changed in the 10 years since the Saviour’s wedding. It was almost like the town never aged... funny that. Neal was no longer an adorable toddler – he’d passed the terrible twos and was almost into the even-terribler teens, but was growing up to be just as handsome as his father. Snow and Charming were coping remarkably well, and Emma was clearly enjoying being the _very_ cool big sister, making up for the years she’d lost with Henry. Aunt Regina played a very active role in his life too – he’d only met his nephew a handful of times since he left, when the older boy returned to Storybrooke for a few of both his mothers’ birthdays, but he certainly appreciated all the cool stuff left behind to play with. The Charmings even often came to her for parenting advice, considering she was the only one of them who had the first clue how to raise a teenage boy. It really was as if the world had turned upside down.

The only thing that had really changed was that Hook was gone.

It seemed that life on the shore wasn't for him, and even Emma hadn't been enough to keep him moored. By their first anniversary, he was spending increasing amounts of time by the docks and she with others closest to her. They seemed to have reached an impasse – he wanted them to pick up and go on adventures, battling the high seas and never staying in one place for too long. He couldn't understand her frustration and insistence that she didn't want to leave her family. Her childhood had consisted of moving from one family to another and never having a place to call home and she wouldn't choose that for her adult life too. So one day, in the midst of a big fight, he left. No one had known he still had a magic bean, but the portal opened and into it he sailed. He never came back.

Regina learned an important lesson in empathy that day – the last thing your best friend wants to hear when her husband skips out on her is probably "I knew he wasn't worth your time". However true it may be, apparently it's polite to at least wait a couple of days to voice that thought out loud, as Emma swiftly informed her in a blaze of rage and heartbreak. They'd had fights before – they'd had more fights than anyone in Storybrooke could count, as friends as well as enemies – but that one hurt the most. Never before had she seen the Sheriff so abandoned, not only by Hook but by her. It was the first fight in which Emma had clearly expected better from her, the first in which she'd been shocked by Regina's questionable behaviour. That cut deep, along with the onslaught of yelling that followed, fuelled mainly by anger at her husband but expertly and lethally directed only at her best friend. The brunette let the words wash over her, knowing full well she probably deserved most of them, and taking comfort only in that Emma clearly had the capacity to be disappointed in her, which meant that at least there was a level from which she could fall. That showed she’d been doing something right before. Regina vowed to do better, and when the screaming subsided, she took the sobbing wreck of the Saviour into her arms, guided her to the hard concrete floor and held her until long after the sun set.

That was almost 8 years ago. Since then, neither Emma nor herself had entertained the notion of romantic involvement, with anyone. Not because they didn't want to, but exactly _because_ Storybrooke had barely changed at all. It was filled with all the same people – no one ever left (aside from Hook, apparently) and no one new ever came – so there were a distinct lack of available prospects in the town. This was a road they travelled, and then revisited, almost every time they got drunk together.

The past 8 years were punctuated by many an evening of the two women sitting together in Storybrooke's only bar – or on Regina's plush mayoral sofa – usually one with a dirty martini and the other a neat whiskey, wistfully wondering about the abundance of men outside the town lines, in this realm or the next. In the early days there was a melancholy that hung over their conversations, but that soon dissipated as they became a balm to one another's loneliness. Emma's companionship in fact filled some of the space in her life – they both missed their son, they'd both experienced terrible heartbreak, and now they were both here. Their friendship was something the Mayor had never experienced before – she'd never before known anyone who would have taken the Dark curse for her, stayed with her through the dark nights when she lost Robin, or rushed to the hospital at 3am when her appendix ruptured. It was the closest to true, lasting love Regina wondered if she'd ever feel. But it was no substitute for the earth-shattering, core-shaking, beating-heart love that she still held out hope one day they'd both find.

It was one of those evenings in particular on which Regina was pondering as she held a glass of cider in one hand and twirled her phone in the other. Not two days ago she'd been sat in much the same spot – her side of the couch – with her stocking-ed feet up on the glass coffee table and Emma's in her lap. The blonde was laying full-length over the remainder of the sofa and was getting her feet absent-mindedly, albeit affectionately, massaged as they made their way through a second bottle of red wine. They'd been in comfortable, warm silence for only a few minutes when it was broken.

"You know, maybe it's time to make our hopes and dreams a little more attainable. You know what they say, when you run out of men there's always women... and there are plenty of women in this town."

Caught off-guard by the comment, Regina almost snorted into her glass as she tried to stifle a less-than-elegant laughing fit. It was only by way of a miracle that she didn't spill wine all over the cream fabric on which they were sitting.

"What?" Emma had an innocent grin on her face that almost warranted a halo hovering above her head, as if her suggestion was of completely legitimate merit.

Shaking her head with amusement as she regained some of her composure, the brunette glanced over at her best friend. "Well, I hadn't thought of that one, so top marks for creativity." For a second she caught herself. Why hadn't she thought of it? It was a part of herself she'd barely even thought about since they left the Enchanted Forest, though she didn't know why, but it definitely wasn't a part of herself that didn't exist.

That only widened the Saviour’s grin as she could see an interesting conversation on the horizon. She wasn't quite sure how, in maybe 12 years of friendship, this had never once come up but she realised it was something she didn't actually know. "Told ya – I'm a genius. I never have, but there are definitely a few times I wish I had, so why are we limiting our options?" The reaction was completely unreadable, but as far as she was aware they had no secrets so she had no hesitation in asking. "What about you? Are you telling me the Evil Queen never had her wicked way with a wench in her time?"

Trying not to shudder at the thought of how some (albeit, not most) of those trysts happened, Regina tried to push that out of her mind, knowing that wasn't at all what Emma was getting at. Instead she smirked, feeling something like pleasant butterflies in her stomach as if she was rediscovering an old passion. "Guilty as charged, though not for many, many years... Although, what made you so sure?" She swilled the remaining dregs of her wine round the bottom of the glass as she turned an interested gaze down the couch.

"I can imagine the Queen was quite adventurous and, well, _kinky_ – she did manage to sleep with Rumpelstiltskin in the short time I had her acquaintance – so it's not really that much of a leap. And if she's indiscriminate about what she does, she's probably going to be open to who she does it with, too. Though you did confirm my suspicions, I did think now-good Mayor Regina Mills might be a bit too vanilla for that..." Oh it was too easy. The former queen had played right into her hands. Just because they were friends now, didn't mean the Sheriff didn't get a kick out of pushing her buttons.

With each passing word, a full range of emotions were displayed on the Regina's face in all their glory. Interest turned to horror and disgust as she remembered the exploits of her evil self (all in the name of chaos, of course, but no less revolting), and then landed firmly on outrage, just as Emma had intended.

The jibe earned her a painful swat on the thigh but it was undoubtedly worth it to see the fire rising behind the brunette’s eyes as she struggled to voice her irritation, considering she was relatively tipsy and had not been expecting the slight.

“I... what... For a start I don’t see what anything between that elf and my worse half has to do with anything at all other than making me feel quite ill, and secondly, you might know a lot about me but you certainly do not have any idea how ‘vanilla’ or not I am Miss Swan.” That was as eloquent and measured as she could muster with the annoyance bubbling just under the surface and the alcohol impairing her judgement. Though she couldn’t quite keep the disdain from her voice when she spat out the word ‘vanilla’, so there was no doubt which image of herself she found more offensive. They might have turned her good but she hadn’t gone _soft_ – she was still more fearsome and powerful than the rest of them put together.

The blonde hadn’t heard that name in a while. Now they no longer hated one another, she actually took great pleasure in knowing she could rile Regina up so quickly and so effectively, so she couldn’t resist poking the bear. “Miss Swan? Is that your way of asserting your dominance to prove you’ve not gone all gooey and innocent inside? You know that doesn’t fool me anymore, right?” She pushed herself into the sitting position and stretched her arms down her own legs, invading her best friend’s personal space. Although she continued to grin innocently, she bit her lip slightly, knowing she was straying into dangerous territory – even redeemed, the former Queen’s temper was legendary.

She was flustered. Sometimes she really despised Emma Swan. She _didn’t_ , but of course sometimes she did. She hated that this woman had the ability to get under her skin, but also this was her best friend and that was her job. They both knew this had nothing to do the brunette’s sexual preferences and everything to do with her pride and reputation, yet this was a way only the Saviour could get to her since no one else would dare poke fun at her sex life. She took a slow breath in an attempt to quell the urge to banish her in a puff of purple smoke. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to get out of this or what you’re trying to goad me into – if you want to see my collection of sex toys you only need to ask, but trust me when I say you do not want me to assert my dominance.” The confident smirk that accompanied the declaration contained just enough of a warning flash to say ‘I’m not mad, but I might just kill you’.

Now the bear was just asking to be poked. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want. I mean, it’s been a while for both of us...”

Poof. The urge was not quelled. Regina was now alone, empty glass of wine in hand, but missing the warm weight on her lap and surrounded by a slowly dissolving purple haze. Damn, that woman tested her patience.

And here she was, two days later, thinking about that exchange. In fact, she’d struggled to stop thinking about it ever since. It was like a light switch was flicked on in her brain, illuminating options that she forgot were even possible. Illuminating feelings she’d forgotten she’d ever had, or even had the capacity to feel. She did wonder if it was amongst her obsession with Snow White and her perfect husband that she lost that part of herself – her all-consuming jealousy of their family gave her one ideal, one image of happiness, which she was determined to replicate at any and all cost. Either that or the solution was markedly more straight-forward. There simply weren’t many women in Storybrooke with an interest in other women – to lead by example or to potentially date. Except apparently there was one possibility that Regina hadn’t even know existed.

There came the real reason she couldn’t stop thinking about the other night. That option in particular that was suddenly illuminated in a very, very bright spotlight. She cursed herself for even letting the thought cross her mind, but suddenly she was noticing how exquisitely beautiful and intriguing Emma Swan was. She thought of the smell – red wine mingled with that sweet, smoky perfume – when the pale skin had drawn near. She even began to wonder if that prickle she’d felt over her thighs as the blonde disappeared really was a reaction to the lack of heat, or instead to the lack of _Emma_.


	2. Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for the comments guys! I hope you like the second installment x

She accepted her punishment as she was banished back to her own bedroom where a midnight chill had fallen. The cool temperature made her body heat and sudden arousal more apparent, and slightly more painful, which – she had to hand it to the former Queen – was the perfect revenge given her crime. She was right, it _had_ been a while for both of them and for her insolence the brunette had made sure Emma could feel that deprivation in every nerve ending. Although, in all her teaching, Regina had neglected to tell her there really was a spell for _everything_. She made a mental note to chastise her best friend – after all, they were both in the same boat, gotta help a sister out, right? However, right then Emma chose wisely to give the Mayor a chance to calm down; she slipped into cosy flannel pyjamas and wrapped the duvet tightly around her, quietly _enjoying_ the after-effects of the curse. It had been too long since she’d felt that insistent pressure between her legs and – magic-induced or not – feeling her thigh muscles tighten as a sensation ran down her limbs, curling her toes, wasn’t quite as torturous as she was sure the intention had been... Not that she’d ever tell Regina that.

The next morning, the blonde had woken without an alarm in a spirited mood – she wasn’t quite sure why, but could vaguely remember having pleasant dreams so put it down to that – and rolled over to glance at her phone. _09:36._ The Mayor would already be at work. She decided to try her luck.

_“Still pouting? x”_

_“I was never pouting; I just decided your nonsense was becoming tiresome so I solved that problem. Pays to be proficient in magic – I’ll have to teach you one day.”_

Emma scoffed at the subtle stab at her magical prowess, then thought back to the not-quite-satisfying sensation the spell had given her with a guilty smile. _“You call that proficiency?”_

_“You got home in one piece, didn’t you? Trust me; I resisted doing a lot worse x”_

Grinning to herself, she suppressed her curiosity as to what that ‘worse’ would have been (and if she’d have enjoyed it even more). She pushed her phone under the opposite pillow and burrowed back under the warm covers. She was very content – she had a truly evil yet wonderful best friend, her bed was warm and she didn’t even have to think about getting up for work for at least another 3 hours.

*

So Regina pondered. Save the occasional text exchange, the two women hadn’t crossed paths since that night – Emma had switched to lates and the brunette would usually turn in before she rolled off shift. Two days wasn’t uncommon when they had conflicting schedules, yet the Mayor found herself missing her best friend more than usual and trying exceptionally hard not to question why.

Which led her here. Spinning her phone between her middle finger and thumb trying in vain to engineer a reason to see the blonde. The irony was it was Friday, and they’d spent almost every Friday evening for the past 8 years swapping secrets, deep (or shallow) thoughts and embarrassing stories, so she didn’t even need an excuse. It was kinda their thing. Yet all of a sudden it was like her brain had seized up and all sense of logic and reason had abandoned ship. Somehow, Emma had made her _dumb_. Even simple conversation felt beyond her – she’d been trying to write the same message for almost two hours.

As if by magic, her mobile vibrated and she dropped it in surprise. Retrieving it from the rug where it had landed face down, she swallowed her panic when she saw who the text was from.

_“You still up? x”_

_“Naturally x”_

_“How do you still manage to sound pompous by text? I’m off in 10, what if I let you make me one of your dirty martinis? (As long as you eat the olive) x”_

Regina paused, her pulse inexplicably racing and a knot in her stomach. Of course that’s what she wanted, it was what she’d been trying to verbalise all evening. But the longer she thought about how to respond, the more alien every response became, so she tried to type without thinking (it was remarkably hard to act natural when all you can think of is that you can’t act natural). _“If you think I don’t know that translates as you trying one, pulling a face and then drinking all the whiskey in my house then you underestimate how well I know you. But go on, I’ll bite. Drive safe x”_

Suddenly, the knot got tighter and she felt the apprehension run all the way down to the tips of her fingers. She drained the glass of cider in an attempt to calm her nerves and began rather fruitlessly tidying (which in reality was more like rearranging, since her mansion was always spotless). Her mind was elsewhere as she swept into the kitchen on autopilot – stowing her stemmed cider glass in the dishwasher and retrieving two martini glasses from the cupboard, and a crystal cut tumbler for good measure. The cold air hitting her skin as she descended the stone steps into the pantry highlighted her tacky palms and she silently chastised herself for going to pieces over the smallest chance of something she’d never even known she wanted. Truth be told, she had no idea if she wanted it, but the idea certainly captured her interest, and her curiosity. Vodka, vermouth, and Emma’s favourite MacCutcheon Scotch Whiskey in her arms, she returned to the kitchen and took a moment to steady herself, bracing her manicured hands against the cool countertop and taking a deep breath.

“Just remember, nothing’s changed.”

*

One thing Regina had never stopped complaining about was the bug. In fact, most of the time, she refused to get in “that wretched, unsightly contraption” and insisted they use her car. Though, what seemed to exasperate her even more than the “offensive, death-trap on wheels” was the fact that Emma insisted on keeping a car at all. With her magic skills fine-tuned, the brunette failed to understand why she wouldn’t just ‘appear’ everywhere, now that she could. Regina clearly didn’t appreciate the freedom and solitude of driving, even for those few moments a day on the way to and from work.

As the Sheriff rounded the corner and the grand white building came into view, she slowed her speed and pulled to a stop on the curb out front. Admittedly, every time she turned the engine off, she wondered if the Beetle would ever start again, so maybe it was time to take her into retirement. Another thing she wouldn’t be telling Regina of course.

They had exchanged keys a long time ago, but she wasn’t at all surprised to feel the heavy door of the mayoral mansion swing open as she pushed. Long gone was the time the Mayor felt the need to lock herself away to keep the townspeople out in fear of what they’d do to her – these days she was a beacon of approachability and change, and her door was always open, literally. She could hear movement and see a light coming from the kitchen, wandering in just in time to hear her best friend mumble something to herself and look up in surprise at her company. “Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness you know.”

The brunette was caught off guard – those 10 minutes had gone very quickly – and flustered, but did well to not let it show. “The first sign? It’s a bit late for that, I think I went mad years ago, how else do you explain me putting up with you?” With a smirk she swept around the kitchen counter and began free-pouring the vodka into the ice-filled cocktail shaker she had magicked on to the side moments earlier. She switched the bottle of vodka for one of vermouth and then, with a wave of her hand, sealed the shaker and set it to mix in mid-air of its own accord.

“Yeah, that’s why you always have a bottle of my absolute favourite whisky on hand, because I’m such a nuisance in your life…” Emma grinned and, almost to emphasise her point, grabbed the neck of the whisky bottle and the tumbler, disappearing into the living room to make herself at home and dodging the tea-towel thrown in her direction on the way out.

Regina rolled her eyes so hard she felt them strain and with a second wave of the hand, and a puff of her signature purple smoke, she sent two filled martini glasses and the cocktail shaker onto the coffee table – all neatly on coasters of course. She then followed the blonde into the living room and mirrored her position – back against the arm of the sofa and legs stretched out so they were pretty much draped over one another. Picking up her own glass, she passed the other to her best friend and took a sip. “How was your day?”

Every so often the Saviour would once again try some of her best friend’s poison, and every time she would come to the same conclusion. _Still_ not for her. No matter how badly she wanted to look as elegant and classy as the Mayor did holding a martini glass, not to mention look as seductive tugging the olive from the cocktail stick between painted lips, she just couldn’t hack it. Every time she’d wince, finish the glass but the go back to her comforting Scotch – and tonight was no different. Draining the clear liquid in remarkably quick fashion and instead filled her tumbler with the amber liquid (by magic, as she was far too comfortable to move), she sighed heavily and shrugged. “It was fine, yeah. Not much to do really.”

Concern creased the brunette’s forehead. “Okay, what was that sigh in aid of then?”

Emma ran her finger slowly around the rim of her glass, annoyed that she was allowing ancient history to bother her quite so much. She’d been dwelling all day and didn’t want to dwell anymore, but she was desperate to say the words out loud, to acknowledge it, to tell Regina. “Well, today would have been my 10th wedding anniversary, so I really could have used someone trashing a car or something as a distraction.”

Without hesitation, she grabbed the closest part of the Sheriff she could reach, her calf, and started tracing soothing patterns with her thumb. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I should have remembered… I would have trashed the bug myself if I’d thought about it for a moment…“ The bottom had dropped out of her stomach – Emma’s pain was her pain, she’d realised long ago that that was just what happened when you cared about someone as deeply as they did for each other. Of course, there was also the age-old pang of rage as she thought of the despicable pirate, but that was something she’d learned to keep to herself in the past decade.

“As much fun as I would have had marching the Mayor down Main Street in handcuffs, I really don’t think would be necessary. It’s a sweet thought though, thank you.” The blonde felt a warmth spreading through her body as she knocked back the full double measure of whisky in almost one go, refilling the glass instantly.

Although personally she wasn’t ecstatic to be bringing the conversation back to such a dangerous point (for her, anyway), Regina knew her best friend needed a distraction, and it certainly served that purpose last time. “That’s twice in three days you’re suggesting some sort of kinky roleplay with me, really how long _has_ it been Miss Swan?”

“And that’s twice in three days you’ve called me Miss Swan, some would say you’re overcompensating…”

“You say I’m overcompensating, I say you’re projecting… Men are generally intimidated by a powerful woman. Other women on the other hand, tend to find them alluring. You’re clearly curious, so what is it you want to know?” The former Queen tried not to linger too deeply on how easy she was finding it to flirt, or how much she was enjoying it.

Considering that Regina was more than likely completely right, Emma chose to feed her curiosity rather than her pride. Besides, she couldn’t think of a better or more fitting way to take her mind off her ex-husband than talking about a fantasy he never knew she had with the only person he was ever threatened by. “Alright, fine. Just, well, how did it even happen - what is it like...?” Had it been anyone else, she likely would have had the grace to look slightly sheepish asking such personal questions, but not with Regina. She’d never felt so comfortable with anyone in her whole life.

A grin flit across the brunette’s face as she mentally opened the drawer of memories she’d for some reason filed away, and it only widened when she settled upon the perfect tale. _Damn_ , that was some of the best sex she’d ever had, it was such a shame she hadn’t thought about it in years... Elegantly finishing her martini, she tapped the base with her index finger to set an automatic refilling spell and then looked down the sofa at Emma with twinkling eyes. “Since you don’t really know what you want to know, let me just tell you about one of my, let’s say _fondest memories_ , and if you have any specific questions then feel free to interject of course...” She took the guilty but intrigued smile she received as assent to continue.

“When I was Queen, many of the neighbouring kingdoms seemed to feel it was their duty to free the Enchanted Forest of my reign. Which meant, naturally, some of the greatest warriors in the land were after my head. Most never even made it inside the castle, what with all the guards and protective enchantments. Those that did never stood a chance anyway – they may have been exemplary at hand to hand combat but my magic was too advanced and too powerful by then. Most of them I killed without a second thought.

On one of those occasions, I sat on the terrace, surveying my kingdom – I can only assume I was plotting something terrible. I knew she was there, but I let her be. I was intrigued – they’d never sent a woman to kill me before, I wanted to see how this worked. She was crouching behind the terrace door. Only when I felt she gotten a little too close did I chain her to the wardrobe without even turning around.” She paused and took a long sip, smirking. She’d always had a flair for the dramatic.

“When I saw her, it struck me how beautiful she was, which only intrigued me more. She was dressed in high lace-up boots and gold, practically futile – albeit very feminine – armour. Almost like – what was that ridiculous programme Henry used to watch re-runs of? Xena, the warrior princess? Completely useless in an actual fight. Anyway, with a little persuasion she told me her name was Maia, and she was a princess, but wouldn’t tell me where she had travelled from.

I thought I could intimidate her into telling me who sent her – although I'd already decided I didn't really want to kill her, I admired that she dared defy me showing no sign of fear. She was bold, strong, a fighter – and obviously skilled enough to make it into my castle – so as much as I opposed to her cause, I deigned to kill a woman with such promise, such _spirit_. You know my style of course; I invaded her personal space, and my snarl was more of my default tone than anything else back then.

I was yelling, I was threatening – everything laced heavily with sadism and sarcasm of course, as the Evil Queen did best – yet she seemed completely unfazed. Until I got too close that was. I thought I'd imagined it at first; it was a tiny hitch of breath when I got close enough to leave the ghost of a plum lipstick mark on her cheek. But when I caught her eye, that was the first time I saw fear. Not of me, of herself.

It was cruel, but I cackled. She wasn’t scared that I might kill her. She was scared that she might not want to kill me. I knew I could have some fun with that. So I stepped away, and she let out the breath she’d been holding since I closed in. I drew all the curtains around the room and lit the candelabras either side of my bed from right where I was standing, then I picked up the dagger that had fallen to the floor as she was bound. I dropped the chains holding her up and offered her the dagger back, handle first. I told her she had a choice. She could either kiss me, or I’d give her one more chance to try and kill me. I’d fight her, no magic. No one could see; no one would know what she chose. She could go home and tell her people she didn’t have the Evil Queen’s head but she did manage to escape her clutches. Either way, it wouldn’t be a lie.” As she spoke, Regina was not only quietly enjoying reliving the memories, but also watching Emma’s every move carefully. It hadn’t escaped her attention that the blonde had started to shift and squirm slightly and her pulse was quickening, any more than the hitch of breath had gone unnoticed all those years ago.

Completely oblivious to her tells, Emma was watching her best friend with wide-eyed interest and rapt attention. However, from the smile curling on the former Queen's lips, the blonde knew she was going to live up to her evil name. She was going to make her ask. She grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it down the sofa. "Stop screwing with me Regina, what happened?!?"

It was almost too simple. She couldn't help feeling a pang of conscience – was she enjoying this too much? The Saviour was easy prey, but it had been far too long since she'd wound a woman round her little finger like this and she'd forgotten how much she loved it. She'd also forgotten how good she was at it. Her eyes had flickered from twinkling mischievously to fiery and dark. "Needless to say, she made the right decision. She grabbed the knife from my hand and used it to cut my corset laces. I knew then I'd underestimated her; she really wasn't intimidated by me at all. Though that made a pleasant change... Sometimes it can get so _monotonous_ when no one dares to stand up to you. I much prefer someone who will challenge me and, on a whole, women are much better at that than men, in my experience. That and they're far more complex, nowhere near as easy to please - it takes skill, and practice..." By now her eyes had darkened with lust but she was confident she was playing it well. Giving away just enough about what she liked to plant the thought in Emma's mind, but nowhere near enough to satisfy her curiosity. "So as for what happened after that, I'm not sure how much detail you were after..." she teased.

"Unless you're offering a demonstration, I think I can use my imagination." She couldn't resist throwing a seductive smirk down the sofa. The Sheriff knew Regina was taunting her, but considering under all the bravado the brunette was airing some very personal information just to indulge her new whim, the least she could do was let her own guard down. "I guess you already said, but, apart from the obvious, what's different...? Does it feel different? Not just physically, I mean..."

The Mayor could see she was struggling to verbalise her thoughts but she appreciated the effort and squeezed her knee in comfort. "I know what you mean. The short answer? For me, yes. But I can't speak for everyone. The long answer? I find it's a different dynamic. There are no defined roles, or rules – everything can be mutual, and often it is. There's no one way to please a woman, so it's far more about exploration than just a final goal. I've always found the balance of power is much more, _pliable_ – it can swing back and forth so quickly, which makes everything far more exciting..." She knew Emma must be feeling vulnerable having admitted her real curiosity – and potentially what had held her back in the past – so with a mischievous grin she drained her fourth martini. "But physically, aside from the obvious? As well as being _beautiful_ , women have much softer skin, and lips... And they tend to know exactly what they're looking for."

“That’s quite the sales pitch – I bet you could turn just about anyone if you turned on that charm. You’ve won me over at least – maybe it’s not that scary after all.” For the first time, the blonde had a hint of shyness in her voice and was quick to gloss over her admission with a wicked grin. “Anyway, we’re not done with Princess Maia yet – did you ever see her again?”

“Sadly not – it’s a terrible shame really because even just recalling it all these years later still makes me cross my legs...” As if to make a point of the current flush she was feeling she re-crossed her legs the opposite way, causing one foot to rest against Emma’s thigh. Although, as much as she was trying to offer temptation, she was also trying to show her best friend there was really no need to be shy, or embarrassed. Especially when she wanted to push the subject ever so slightly further. “But don’t change the subject. You’re sold, are you? So, is there anyone in particular that piques your interest...? Who is Emma Swan’s type, I wonder...”

The Saviour couldn’t quite believe how at ease Regina made her feel. How easy she made it to be honest, even when she’d spent her whole life bottling everything up. She was even starting to enjoy this conversation, no matter how exposed it left her, and she pondered. “Fierce. Confident. Beautiful. And apparently I seem to have a thing for people with a dark side.” She couldn’t quite keep the excited grin off her face. “Although, for the first time I think I’d want someone I trust. Someone who wouldn’t judge me. Someone I feel completely at ease with. But there’s not many of those women in the world, never mind here in Storybrooke...” As the words came out her mouth, she looked down the sofa and caught the former Queen’s eye. Only then did she realise exactly who she just described.

Her best friend.


	3. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure smut, and I'm not sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since I first started it, and I finally found it in me to finish it. Full disclosure, I did write the last 1500 words or so pretty tipsy, so all mistakes and blatant incoherences are mine.
> 
> Therefore I'm likely to read it in the morning and correct those, sorry for those who read it tonight!
> 
> Enjoy x

The fear came back in full force and she fought the urge to involuntarily vomit – a reflex that had nothing to do with the half-bottle of whisky she’d now consumed. She had to get out of there. Without warning or a single word, she jumped off the sofa and snatched her car keys from the glass coffee table. She was almost out the front door when she felt a hand close around her forearm.

There was a two second delay between Regina watching what was happening and actually processing it. Only then did she push herself out of the cushions and run in stocking-ed feet towards the hallway, just in time to stop the woman leaving. “Woah, Emma, what just happened?”

“Please don’t play those games now – you know exactly what just happened. I have to go.” Emma’s voice was shaky as she attempted to tug her arm free.

“Stop. Emma, STOP.” The brunette surprised herself by raising her voice but she couldn’t watch her best friend fall into a spiral. It was heart-breaking, and she blamed herself. When yelling did nothing to lessen the Saviour’s attempts to leave, she did her best to quell the rising panic and instead a sense of recklessness took hold of her. She pulled hard on the arm she was holding, causing Emma to spin round and face her, and then backed her forcefully into the white-washed wooden door, which slammed shut. Painted lips crashed to soft, pink ones that were hanging slightly open in shock. Her heart skipped a beat (or a hundred) when the woman beneath her was still – but by the second beat they were moving completely in sync and she could breathe again, until her breath was completely knocked out of her by the sheer force and passion of the kiss.

Those painted lips were soft, just as she promised. Yet from them it felt a fire was spreading through Emma’s body, igniting something that had been slowly smouldering into a raging inferno. There was suddenly no fear; only Regina’s hands on her hips, forcing them flat against the front door, nails digging insistently into the fabric of her jeans, as hers found the hem where silk, white-patterned blouse met high-waisted, leather pencil skirt, moving insistently downwards as if they had a mind of their own. Damn, her ass always looked great in that skirt, but now the blonde knew just how good it felt too – she used her new vantage point to pull the Mayor’s hips flush against her own and swallowed a growl of approval.

As if the kiss and the hands weren’t enough to drive the Mayor insane, there was that smell again – the sweet and smoky perfume, only now exacerbated by the whisky she could taste on the starved lips. She felt slightly light-headed from what she could only assume was a combination of vodka, adrenaline and a sudden rush of blood away from her head. That and they hadn’t come up for air for almost a minute. Reluctantly she broke the kiss and took a deep breath to steady herself, but didn’t move away, only looked into the green eyes before her and smiled smugly. Inside her heart was pounding with fear and butterflies were flapping furiously in her stomach but she knew if she let any of that show it might spook Emma – one of them had to at least appear calm. “Still want to run? You can go – I won’t stop you – but something tells me you’ll sleep a lot better tonight if you stay…”

There was an acute sense of loss as the warm kiss drew away and stopped fuelling the fire, but only temporarily as the suggestion and lust the Sherriff could see dancing in dark brown set her alight. It was significantly harder to form a sharp response with images of what you could do to the woman before you (or what she might do to you) flashing through your mind like a never-ending film reel. “Princess Maia got the option to fight you, yet I get told I can run; are you just too scared I might win?” That would have sounded far more defiant if she wasn’t betrayed by the quiver in her voice caused by her racing pulse.

“Dear, you’ve been trying to fight me since we first met and yet here we are. I don’t want to wait another 15 years for you to make the right choice.” The grin morphed into a smirk that only made the brunette’s lips even more tempting, especially as she ran her tongue around them slowly. She felt Emma’s right hand leave the curve of her ass and didn’t even need to look down to know there was now a ball of white magic now forming in it. The smirk didn’t waiver for a second as she closed her fingers around her best friend’s wrist. “Is that really what you want to do right now?” She then let go of the wrist and stepped back, opening the space between them and surprising herself with her own impression of nonchalance when moving away from the blonde was the last thing she wanted to do right now. “I can think of at least one way I’d prefer you express your years of amassed frustration at me...” With that she turned and walked back towards the lounge, calling carelessly over her shoulder. “You know where I’ll be when you decide you don’t want to spend the night alone.”

Regina always had the power to make her blood boil, but somehow now more than ever. Emma knew it was at least 50% from arousal, but the rest? That was pure irritation – the Mayor was doing everything to push her buttons. That considered – if nothing more than a kiss left that sort of pressure building between her legs, she could only imagine the sex would have her seeing stars. No one in their right mind would walk away from that. Besides, her confidence was sexy and infuriating in equal parts – all the blonde wanted to do was knock her down a peg or two. Or jump her. Probably – okay, definitely – both.

Although her performance elicited exactly the reaction she’d hoped for, Regina was still caught by surprise (and distinct relief). Strong, insistent hands were on her waist and threw her roughly against the wall by the stairs. They were then dragging silk out of the waistband of her skirt and only stilled when they reached the warm, olive skin at her ribs. Their lips crashed together with far more urgency than the first time and the Sheriff’s tongue was demanding entrance, determined to prove this was a fair fight. All she wanted to do was melt under the forceful kiss – it was years since she’d been touched by anyone, never mind like this – but she refused to be too compliant, that was where her own pride drew the line. Their tongues instead battled for dominance but she had to stem the sharp intake of breath when she felt fingertips dancing against the underside of her bra. As they broke apart her mouth slipped back into the smirk – if only to hide just how turned on she was – and she began slowly, seductively unbuttoning her blouse to give the Saviour better access to her searing hot skin. The fear was starting to dissipate as it was replaced by desire and the confidence was slowly becoming real. “I’m glad to see you’re not holding back, I was worried you might be too nervous...”

With that, Emma couldn’t hide her growl of frustration. She slapped the brunette’s hands away and ripped the remainder of the blouse open, buttons scattering to the floor. “What do I have to do to wipe that smug grin off your face?” She wasn’t sure how she knew what to do but she didn’t even have to think about it. She pressed a knee between slender legs and grabbed the now-exposed lace-covered breasts, palming them firmly. She was rewarded with a low moan – the first time Regina had shown at sign of weakness – and it was her turn to smirk. “Well that certainly worked...”

The knowledge that the blonde certainly wasn’t going to just roll over and take it like most others sent more than a ripple of excitement through the former Queen’s body. That and the sudden friction on both areas of pressure that needed it most. But being the first to betray her palpable arousal was certainly not her style and so she reset the balance of power so it was tipped much closer to her comfort zone, at least at this stage. Her fingers danced over what she knew was a very toned stomach covered only by a thin layer of teal cotton, and then hooked into the front of black denim jeans. She used this hold to spin them round and pin Emma against the wall, held in place by their bodies flush together. “I suggest you find my mouth something better to do…” With a mischievous sparkle in her eyes she moved in to resume the kiss but at the last second she instead pressed her lips to the pale jawline. She left a trail of teasing kisses along the jaw to just under the Sheriff’s ear, and continued down her neck.

Of all the times she’d seen the Mayor’s lips, wanted to yell in frustration at the words that came out of them, Emma never imagined they’d feel so good attached to her pulse point. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head fell back in an innate reaction to the warmth and electricity spreading through her body, emanating from the spot of every kiss. She also subconsciously began massaging the breasts in her hands much more insistently as an outlet for the tension building inside of her. Her voice was breathy and strangled as she struggled to contain her enjoyment. “Shit, -gina…”

Regina knew the nickname was not one of intent but more that the blonde couldn’t currently formulate words properly – which in itself was a turn on – but she still found it incredibly hot and felt a prickle of need between her thighs. She refused to stop kissing the expanse of flushing skin to speak, causing her lips to vibrate with every word and intensifying the shockwaves through the Saviour’s body. “Mmm, it’s been a long time since anyone called me that, but it sounds good on you…” Though sounding very composed and in control as she spoke, she found herself involuntarily keening into the surprisingly skilled hands groping her chest to provide some modicum of relief.

“Oh I’m sorry, is that what Princess Maia used to call you?” It took every particle of the Sheriff’s rapidly-disappearing faculties to formulate some sort of witty response. Her breathing was now ragged and it was becoming harder by the second to ignore the fingers tracing the waistband of her pants rhythmically. 

“Not jealous, are we?” Impressed that Emma was still making sense at all never mind being so feisty, the brunette decided it was time to incapacitate her completely – unfortunately not literally, though as that image crossed her mind she suppressed a groan of approval. Maybe next time… For now she had to be content with removing her right hand from the waistband of the black jeans and clicking her fingers, so all of a sudden the blonde was flat on her back on the four-poster bed upstairs with Regina astride her hips. Taking advantage of her best friend’s surprise, she pulled the teal t-shirt over her head and discarded it without looking where it might land. Sitting back to admire the beautiful woman below her for a moment, she was reminded it really wasn’t at all practical to straddle anyone in a tight leather skirt so shimmied it higher up her thighs.

She chose to ignore the Mayor’s jibe, mostly because looking up at the woman above her – who had now shed her ripped blouse and was only in a peach silk bra adorned with black lace and the leather skirt that was creeping higher by the second – relieved her of her last rational thought and took her breath away. She instead reached forward and ran her hands up the powerful thighs either side of her, helping push the garment further towards the former Queen’s waist so it was covering less of her modesty by the second. Laying back and trying fruitlessly to ignore the warmth spreading through her abdomen caused by the comfortable weight atop it, she fired back what felt like her final resistance before she might melt under the regal hands and authoritative gaze. “Elegant...” She teased, gesturing to the skirt now bunched so high it revealed the pants that so exquisitely matched the bra.

With as much self-control as she could muster, Regina limited her response to a flick of the wrist which not only rid her of the troublesome skirt, but the blonde of her jeans too, in a puff of purple smoke. When the haze cleared she surveyed the pale canvas below her and smirked in approval. “You were saying...?” Suddenly she became very aware that in the absence of clothing she was sat directly on the soft skin of Emma’s thighs, and the heat emanating from between them was unmistakable. Almost like there was some magnetic pull, her fingers once again found themselves dancing over the waistband of the plain cotton boxers. “For someone who apparently wasn’t sure until tonight that they were interested in sleeping with women, you feel pretty interested to me…” 

“Don’t feel special, it’s been so lo- fuck, mmm…” The Saviour’s sentence was lost in a deep groan as she felt delicious pressure against her centre, cotton the only barrier between skilled fingers and her desperate heat. Quietly pleased that the brunette was showing no signs of hesitation or nerves, Emma found the confidence a huge turn on, but it also helped her shed her own inhibitions. So much so that almost unconsciously her back was arched and her hips canting wantonly towards the torturously light touch between her thighs. Even if she was capable of enough conscious thought to feel embarrassment right now, she wouldn’t. All that mattered was feeling more of, from, this woman.

Normally, with any other lover (or, she hoped, with this one in the future), she would gloat, tease and drive them to incoherent desperation. But whether it was the decade without human contact or the sheer beauty of the woman laid out for her, willingly at her mercy, this time Regina couldn’t wait. In a fit of passion that she decided made them more than even, she ripped the cotton panties from the pale skin below her and sighed with relief that rivalled the blonde’s as her fingers slipped between warm folds. For once, she was speechless – her entire brain focussing only on spreading the sticky liquid coating her fingers and committing every tiny reaction to memory.

The Sherriff, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the stream of incoherent reactions, which become increasingly profane as the brunette teased out her clit with ease; almost as though her body had a roadmap the Mayor had memorised without ever picking up before. “Oh God wow, you really are incredible, don’t – ohhhhh – stop.” The guttural moan was accompanied by her hands leaving behind long red scratches in olive thighs and shooting up to hold on to the headboard for dear life as she felt the much needed intrusion deep inside her.

“Maybe not God, but I was a Queen, which is as close as you can hope for...” Not that she’d ever admit it right now, but feeling Emma’s walls clench like a vice grip of steel around two fingers, the honour was all hers (the flooding arousal too). As much as she was enjoying sitting back and leisurely fucking the woman below her, instinct to get lost in her took over, so she reached underneath the arched back and loosened the (un-matching, of course) bra, discarding it somewhere with the more ruined undergarment. Without relenting the rhythmic circles of her thumb or the slow but powerful thrusts of her fingers, Regina bowed her head to draw wet, attentive kisses from her navel, to the valley between her breasts, leaving slight smudges of her little-remaining lipstick in her wake.

“Yes your majesty…” A quip that was intended to drip with sarcasm came out a whole lot more primal than expected. The blonde had no idea the rush of arousal it caused in her best friend, but at this point she could spare no thought for the words coming out of her mouth as every conscious effort she had was going into staving off her impending orgasm – she didn’t want this to end quite yet. The efforts, however, were proving quite unsuccessful as she began to feel the tell-tale tension in her thighs and the curling of her toes, accompanied by a guttural groan. “Ahhh R’gina, don’t stop, I’m cumming…”

Hearing the words from the pale pink lips only multiplied the desire coursing through the Mayor’s body as she felt the walls contracting around her fingers and watched the Saviour lose control. As the convulsions eased and Emma’s body came to rest back on the bed, she eased her hand from the warmth and unconsciously licked each digit clean, one by one, humming contentedly at the sweet taste.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard… Either I really needed that or you really are as good as you claim…” The Sherriff’s sarcasm was (unfortunately) the first thing to return, albeit delivered half-heartedly as the post-coital serenity settled over her without delay. Absent-mindedly she drew circles on her lover’s thigh, craving continuing, affectionate contact. 

With a twinkle of confidence in her eyes, the brunette savoured the last finger and devoured the last drop of arousal hungrily. “I did tell you, women are just so much better at this. And to think, apparently this wasn’t your thing…”

“Why don’t we put that to the test, hmm? You’re definitely doing it for me so far, but there’s only one way to know for sure…” Her intent was clear as her tongue traced over her lips, and the hunger in her mischievous green eyes was apparent as she flipped them over in a sudden resuming burst of strength.

“That’s bold for your first time.” It was a battle to keep her voice steady, to not betray how badly she wanted the blonde to follow through right now; she didn’t want to pressure her best friend, especially not after the giant leap past the point of no return they’d already made.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re more than demanding enough to tell me exactly what to do if it’s not quite right.” Although that was that was more of a subtle hint than an actual prediction; she didn’t take Regina for someone who would accept anything sub-par. Of course she was nervous, but right now all she wanted to do was make the brunette see stars, so she wasn’t at all opposed to going all in with a little direction. “Besides, I don’t imagine it’ll take much, you’re dripping already. When was the last time you got off on someone’s tongue…?”

Ordinarily that would have earned Emma a cutting reply, but instead the former Queen’s breath hitched and she closed her eyes to ground herself back to reality. She had no idea how the Saviour knew, she’d never admitted it to anyone, but dirty talk was one of her few (but not as few as she’d like) unrivalled weaknesses in bed. Taking a moment to consider a response that wouldn’t reveal just how needy those words were making her, she only opened her eyes when her voice was steady and she believed they wouldn’t betray her. “Then I guess that would be acceptable, if you insist.” But the ghost of a smug smirk was all she could muster to mask her excitement.

Sensing she had the Mayor right where she wanted her, she couldn’t resist pushing a little further. Making her beg might be a little out of the blonde’s skill-set yet (they had time for that, she hoped), but she could at least get the satisfaction of knowing how much Regina wanted this. Burying her head in the crook of the tanned neck before her, she kissed up to the shell of her ear and nipped gently. “Tell me how long it’s been, and I’ll make sure you’re not waiting any longer…”

It wasn’t like it even mattered – they both already knew the answer anyway. Neither woman had had sex in the last 10 years without the other knowing about it. Emma knew the brunette had got hot and heavy with the bartender from the Rabbit Hole a few times – one of the only handsome and discreet men left in town – but the night she almost took him home, she’d suddenly decided having a toy-boy was unbecoming (clearly once a Queen, always a Queen). In a fashion akin to her former title, she grit her teeth in irritation as her mind and defiance were slowly losing the fight against her body, and her desire. “Go. To. Hell. Em-ma.”

The Saviour felt a shiver of excitement run through her at the words – in any normal circumstances profanity was above the former Queen, but the thought of breaking that façade filled her with a renewed vigour. Her confidence was at an all-time high, evident by her smug tone as she crooned into her best friend’s ear. “I can wait all night to taste you, but you’ll cave eventually, so why keep yourself waiting? I’m your willing subject, at your service; all you have to do is admit how long you’ve needed this…” Surely there would be very little resistance to the temptation of her former royal glory, with an eager and pliable liege.

“12 years.” Regina was barely conscious of the answer coming out of her mouth – it was as if her voice had a mind of its own, but it did at least sound strained. Although, she didn’t quite have time to chastise herself for relenting as the next thing she felt was a warm, strong muscle probing through her folds and she gasped in delight. Maybe there was something to be said about giving up control after all – she hadn’t exactly been celibate for 12 years, she hadn’t let any of her few partners in that time go down on her; of course that was far too intimate. However right now she was questioning why, because Emma’s questing and curious tongue was close to (if not the) the best thing she’d ever felt.

As the Mayor closed her eyes to allow her to focus solely on the pleasure emanating from the lips wrapped around her clit, she couldn’t help but wonder how long their lives had been building up to this. If she didn’t know better, she would say that everything – the Evil Queen, the curse, Hook, Robin – had led them to this moment. Of course, she didn’t believe in destiny and fate – that is utterly ridiculous and superstitious – and it was most certainly the sensations shooting through her body, but right now she couldn’t remember anything ever feeling so right. Maybe she’d finally found her happy ending – or at least, her happy near future. (For certain, she’d found her happy next 4 minutes, because she was pretty sure she couldn’t hold off her orgasm any longer than that).


End file.
